


Apex Predator

by engine



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Season: Spring in Hieron, Spring in Hieron Spoilers, Winter in Hieron Spoilers, kodiak is also there and he is perfect, spoilers generally for various throndir and ephrim things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/pseuds/engine
Summary: Two realizations hit Throndir with the ferocity of an avalanche tearing down unsuspecting pine trees. The first was that Ephrim hadn’t told him the truth about his arm, brushing away any inquiries with an assurance that there wasn’t anything to be done.The second was the fact that the speed with which the darkness consumed him was, at least partially, Throndir’s fault.
Relationships: Ephrim/Throndir (Friends at the Table)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Apex Predator

**Author's Note:**

> i was gripped by the concept of "what if throndir had to feed on ephrim during cold winter" and then i finally hit alcyon and i wrote this fic in a feverish haze. this is dedicated entirely to angie who i dragged into this fandom and then we were both immediately consumed by this ship. enjoy!!!

It was after Solomon and Lake left, after Hella went to prepare her boat for the journey north, and Hadrian returned to his family, and Fero returned to the Outhouse. After Lem had wandered off, probably to sulk about his boyfriend, and Adaire left to scheme. Ephrim had retired to his office, pointedly not looking at Throndir as he excused himself from the meeting hall. It was after all of that that Throndir finally found the words he’d lost when they were standing around the war table as Ephrim revealed the extent of the damage to his right hand.

Only days before, when the hunger had gotten too intense for Throndir to bear, the darkness hadn’t quite reached Ephrim’s elbow yet. Throndir always pushed the feeding off, never wanting to take more than he absolutely had to, but Ephrim had seen the tension around his eyes and quietly invited Throndir to his bedroom later that night for privacy. Throndir had seen the arm with his own eyes, Ephrim’s right hand dark and useless at his side as Throndir fed.

And now— _now_ —

“Stay,” Throndir said to Kodiak when they reached the door to Ephrim’s office. Kodiak let out a soft whine but slowly laid down, giving Throndir a pathetic look. “I just need to—this is important, okay? You can see Ephrim later.”

Kodiak huffed and looked away, as clear a dismissal as anything, and Throndir sighed too, bending down briefly to scratch behind Kodiak’s ears. Then he stood up, took a bracing breath, and opened the door.

Ephrim stood by the window, looking out at the courtyard below, the afternoon sun golden on his face. He didn’t move at the sound of Throndir’s entrance, but Throndir could see, in profile, his expression shift into a wry smile. His cape was off, draped over the back of his desk chair, and one glove—his left glove—lay on the desk’s surface, as if he’d made an attempt at being comfortable and lost the energy halfway through. 

“Throndir,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“How high up is it?” Throndir asked, dreading it but needing to know exactly how bad it was. “How far up your arm does it go?”

Ephrim’s right fingers twitched, the darkness of it covered by his glove, and he reached up with his other hand to touch his bicep. His pale fingers looked delicate against the tight black sleeve of his shirt.

“A ways,” he said, still not looking at Throndir. “More than when you last saw it.”

“And you weren’t—” Throndir started, his chest hollowed out, worse than any vampiric hunger, maybe even worse than when he’d realized he’d never return to Auniq again. “You just weren’t gonna tell me?”

“Ideally.” Ephrim finally looked away from the window, his gaze confident like when he held court, his head high, even as his hand gripped his arm tighter. “The world is ending, Throndir. There’s more important things to worry about than how much of my arm is missing.”

“It’s killingyou!” Throndir said, louder than he meant. “And it’s because of me, isn’t it? That’s why you didn’t say anything!”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Ephrim said, voice just a little bit sharper than it had been. “You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You’ve done just as much for this place as I have, if not more. You don’t ask for anything else, even after helping me get all of this.” He made an expansive gesture, as if to encompass everything from Ephrim’s position to the entirety of the Last University. “What else would you do, Throndir, if your hunger got out of control? Tell me. Because I don’t see any other options here.”

Throndir ran both hands through his hair, his patience fraying more with every word Ephrim said. “I don’t know! Go out and find some bandits, maybe! Or—back when it first happened, in Rosemerrow, I went to a theatre. Maybe I could do that again. Not a theatre in Rosemerrow, but, like, a crowd of people. This is _killing_ you, Ephrim!”

“It was always going to kill me eventually,” Ephrim said, calm, frustratingly calm, as if the prospect of his death wasn’t worth being upset over. “It’s just killing me a little bit faster now.”

“Why would you—” Throndir said helplessly, taking one step further into the room before stopping himself, not sure what to do, not sure what he _wanted_ to do. “Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you do that for _me_?”

Ephrim laughed softly, a helpless laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what Throndir was saying. “God, seriously? I thought it was pretty obvious by now but apparently not.” He tilted his head to the side, smiling a bit, some strands of hair falling in front of his face. “Because I love you, you idiot. Geez.”

It kind of felt like diving into a cold lake, the water filling his ears and muffling outside sound, the frigid chill snapping him wide awake. Or maybe like the first time he’d stepped inside the gates of Velas, the way his world seemed to open up with infinite possibilities, things that he’d never even dreamed of in the eternal snow storms around Auniq. Or, maybe, it was the feeling of sitting in the underground garden with Ephrim, when the stress of everything had gotten to be too much. They had talked about anything other than the lack of food, the sickness ravaging the dormitories, the torrential rains flooding the farm again; Ephrim would tell him a new story he’d heard from one of the gnolls, and Throndir would talk about Blue J’s latest hunt and improvement with the bow, and everything would recede a bit—just a bit—into the distance. A moment where he could listen to the stream, and smell the sun’s breath, and the future didn’t seem quite so bleak.

“Wait,” Throndir said, the ground newly shifted beneath him, “what?”

“I mean, I wasn’t really subtle about it,” Ephrim said. “I’m pretty sure Rosana figured it out, like, immediately. I didn’t want it to be—I didn’t want you to feel like you had to say anything back, or whatever, so I wasn’t planning on saying anything. You already look like a kicked puppy every time you feed. I figured this would just make that worse.”

Throndir thought about everything that had happened, all the years they’d spent just trying to survive. When they’d been stuck in that rainstorm—had Ephrim been in love with him then? Or was it later, when he’d stood beside Throndir in the graveyard after the snow elves and goblins had all dispersed? Or was it not until after Fero stormed off to live outside the University walls, when it had just been the two of them again, relying on each other to make it through another day?

Eight months after arriving at the Last University, the hunger had first clawed at Throndir’s insides, a need beyond anything else he’d experienced. And when he’d explained what was wrong, what he needed, Ephrim had calmly offered to help in whatever way he could. He didn’t remember what else had happened that day around the University, but he remembered the look on Ephrim’s face as Throndir had made eye contact and let himself feel for Ephrim’s life essence. How Ephrim had never wavered, never shown even one hint of regret.

“Why?” Throndir asked. “I mean, why _me_?”

Ephrim scoffed, pulling a face. “Seriously? After everything? If you can’t come up with any reasons you might be appealing after eight years together—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t really matter, but there are a lot of really embarrassing things I could say, that I’m not going to say, and you’ll just have to trust me on this.”

Once, when Ephrim had been sick, before they’d realized what was causing it, Throndir had brought him some salve for his skin, the last of the supply, only enough for a small bit of relief. He’d noticed Ephrim hadn’t looked comfortable during the morning meeting, and knew that meant he hadn’t been taking proper care of himself. Rosana had handed him the medicine with a sigh and a pat on the arm, and told him she was glad he was keeping an eye on Ephrim, because someone had to. And when he’d placed the little jar on Ephrim’s desk, Ephrim had looked up at him with surprise, and then a soft smile, and offered him a fresh cup of tea, if Throndir had the time to spare.

He wasn’t sure why that moment stood out. Maybe it was the surprise, that Ephrim clearly hadn’t thought anyone paid that much attention to him. Or maybe it was Ephrim’s smile, relaxed and unguarded in the way it only ever was for Throndir and Kodiak. Throndir didn’t remember what else they talked about as they drank weak tea in Ephrim’s office, but he did remember the way Ephrim had slouched in his chair, gloved hands wrapped around his teacup, an amused and fond look on his face.

“Now. If you don’t have any other questions,” Ephrim said, attempting formality. But there was an uncertainty to his expression, a fragility that Throndir wasn’t used to seeing. Ephrim tucked his hair behind his ear, a nervous tick, glancing to the side, like he’d used the last reserves of his confidence.

“No, wait,” Throndir finally managed, a little strangled, taking another step into the room. “I just—I’m processing. Gimme a second.”

“Just a second?” Ephrim said, half-smiling, though the slant of his eyebrows betrayed his anxiety. “It’s kind of a lot to process. You can, like, go practice at the Range or something if you need time. Don’t worry about it.”

Throndir huffed, rubbing his face with both hands. “Of course I’m gonna worry about it. You can’t just say that and then expect me to—to leave.”

“I very much can.” Ephrim turned back to the window, his gloved hand reaching out to lightly touch the glass. “That’s kind of my whole thing. Telling people to do things and expecting them to leave. That’s how it works when you’re a lord. Go do this, go do that, report back later. My whole job is telling people what to do, really.”

Without thinking about it, Throndir walked around the desk, reaching out for Ephrim’s wrist. His skin was warm—he was always warm, even without Samothes’s fire—and Throndir felt everything sharpen into focus at the feeling of his callused hand against the softness of Ephrim’s skin.

“I guess I just never really—” he started to say, shaking his head. “There was always so much to do, and everything was awful for such a long time. It’s not really—it wasn’t ever a priority, I guess. Romance, or whatever. It’s always been about survival. When I was a kid in Auniq, and when I had to run away. And then everything after, too.”

“Well, don’t feel obligated to start now,” Ephrim said, looking at Throndir suspiciously. “That’s not why I said something.”

“I know that,” Throndir said, softer now. “I’m not that stupid. You were really clear. You told me I don’t need to worry about it, like, three times.”

Ephrim frowned, one eyebrow arching up a bit, eyes still narrowed. “Because I’m serious. If you hadn’t pushed the issue I wouldn’t have—”

“Hey, Ephrim,” Throndir said, a smile starting to grow on his face. “Can I kiss you now? I really wanna kiss you now.”

Ephrim’s expression dropped into one of pure surprise, as if this hadn’t been an outcome he’d given any consideration. Which, in Throndir’s opinion, was pretty ridiculous. Aside from the fact that Ephrim was amazing, they’d spent eight years living and working together, eight years running a community together, eight years where Throndir hadn’t relied on any person more than he relied on Ephrim. It wasn’t much of a leap to go from caring about him as a friend with an idle awareness of how attractive he was, to wanting to kiss him. Throndir just hadn’t realized that was even an option on the table.

“You can say no,” Throndir said, grinning, forcing himself not to reach out for Ephrim with his other hand. Not yet. “I won’t be mad.”

“You won’t be—are you serious right now?” Ephrim said. “After all of that you’re just—just _asking_?”

“Yeah, Ephrim,” he said, and _now_ he reached out, placing his other hand on Ephrim’s waist, warm and solid. “I’m just asking.”

“And you really mean it,” Ephrim said, half a question, half as though trying to make himself believe it. His eyes moved across Throndir’s face, like he was searching for something, some proof that Throndir wasn’t making it all up. For a moment, he didn’t know what he could possibly do to make Ephrim believe him, and then he realized: he just had to be honest. That, at least, was something he was good at.

“You keep your hair long now because you think—you _know_ it looks really good, but you always tie it back because it gets in your way when you’re reading,” Throndir said, quietly, just for the two of them. “When you’re stressed, you drink tea nonstop, even after it’s gone cold. You really love to garden, which you didn’t know until we got here, and when you don’t think anyone’s looking, you tell the flowers how pretty they are.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against Ephrim’s, hearing and feeling his breathing hitch. “I’m always looking, though. It’s really cute.”

“ _God_ ,” Ephrim said, eyes closed now, finally starting to smile. “If you tell anyone about that I’ll kill you.”

“You super won’t,” Throndir said, dropping Ephrim’s wrist to reach up and cup his jaw.

Ephrim pushed himself up, and Throndir leaned the rest of the way down, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together. Ephrim’s left hand grabbed the front of Throndir’s coat, fingers tight, his right arm coming up over Throndir’s shoulder, careful not to touch him, pushing himself even closer. Throndir wanted—he just _wanted_ , with a surety and intensity he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t that there hadn’t ever been people he’d noticed in the past. He was self-aware enough to admit that. It was just that it had always been from a distance, both literally and figuratively, and he’d never felt the need to change that. Now he found himself absolutely unwilling to let Ephrim go.

Throndir ran his thumb against Ephrim’s cheekbone and Ephrim gasped, a shiver running through him. Something like hunger settled in Throndir’s stomach, a deep need to hear that sound again and again, for as long as possible. Forever, really, if Throndir had anything to say about it.

“I don’t really,” Ephrim said shakily, his voice cracking. “Um, I mean, I’ve never really done this before? Don’t tell anyone that either. I have an image to maintain.”

“Wait, never?” Throndir said, a whole bunch of emotions swirling through him, overlaid by something uncomfortably close to smugness. It probably wasn’t something he should be proud of, but— “But you’re like… smart, and confident, and beautiful, and—”

“And I spent most of my life alone or in the Creed,” Ephrim said, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink. Throndir briefly wondered where else Ephrim was pink, and then had to force himself to think of something else: chores, cleaning the Range, writing up guard schedules, anything other than Ephrim’s bare skin. “It’s not like I had a lot of options.”

“Wow,” Throndir said, still stunned. “I’ve been, like, really stupid, huh?”

Ephrim grinned, letting go of Throndir’s coat and smoothing out the wrinkles right over the spot where Throndir’s heart used to beat. “A little bit. But it’s not like I didn’t know that about you already.”

“I’m gonna kiss you again so you can’t insult me anymore,” Throndir said, leaning back down to kiss the laughter out of Ephrim’s mouth. Ephrim wrapped his arms around Throndir’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together, and Throndir didn’t even think about what he was doing as he backed Ephrim up against the wall beside the window. Ephrim was only a little bit shorter than he was, but like this, Throndir was hyper-aware of all the differences in their builds, how small Ephrim felt in his arms. Throndir wasn’t sure what it said about him that he really, really liked it.

Behind them, something smacked against the door of the office, followed by scratching sounds, and then, finally, a distinctive, pleading whine. Ephrim blinked, pulling away to peer around Throndir at the closed door, then around the otherwise empty room.

“Oh my god,” he said, nudging Throndir until he stepped back, loosening his hold on Ephrim’s waist. “Did you lock Kodiak out?”

“I needed to have a serious conversation with you!” Throndir said, pouting when Ephrim pulled away completely to walk to the door. “Which, by the way, isn’t finished.”

Ephrim opened it, beaming down at Kodiak, who barked happily and headbutted Ephrim, demanding attention. “Kodiak! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were out there. I can’t believe Throndir just abandoned you like that!”

He closed the door again once Kodiak was inside, then crouched down, wrapping his arms around Kodiak in a big hug. Kodiak huffed out a soft, pleased bark, resting his big head on Ephrim’s narrow shoulder. Throndir had never been so jealous of his own dog before, but apparently there was a first time for everything.

“Ephrim, seriously,” Throndir said, walking over to crouch next to him and Kodiak, trying to put everything he was feeling into his voice. “I know there’s a lot going on, and you feel like we have bigger things to worry about, but I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be the reason you die sooner than—” He broke off, staring at the stone floor, and sat down with a sigh. “Not just because of everything, but because—even without all of this, I could never live with myself if I knew what was happening and didn’t stop.”

Ephrim didn’t say anything, running his hands through Kodiak’s fur, his face turned away so Throndir couldn’t see his expression. There were more things Throndir wanted to tell him, things he suddenly needed Ephrim to know, but he forced himself to stay quiet. If Ephrim couldn’t understand why this was so important, Throndir wasn’t sure there was anywhere for them to go. It was a scary thought, the idea of finding this with Ephrim and immediately losing it, but Throndir would rather starve than be the reason Ephrim lost himself to the darkness. There were enough things trying to kill both of them already. He didn’t want to add to that list.

Finally, Ephrim pulled away from Kodiak, propping his elbow on his thigh and his chin in his hand, expression so familiar—and so fond—that Throndir was hit by the realization that Ephrim really _had_ been obvious about his feelings for years. He knew that look, had seen it tons of times, and even though he was still scared and frustrated, he couldn’t help but smile back. It was probably a really stupid smile, too. Fero and Hella would definitely tease him about it if they saw.

“That’s one of the reasons, you know,” Ephrim said, a crooked smile on his face. “Why I fell for you, I mean. You always want to help everyone, no matter how bad things get for you. I’m not always…” He trailed off, expression scrunching up, and even that was appealing, the way his nose crinkled in distaste. “I know my responsibilities. I don’t shy away from them. But I can be selfish. I like bossing people around.” He smiled again, like Throndir was in on a secret joke. “But you—you just do good, because it’s right. Because you don’t think anyone should suffer. Because you _care_.”

He paused and sighed, tilting his head with a resigned expression. “It’s really annoying, honestly, because it’s really attractive, but it also means you don’t care enough about your _own_ life.”

Kodiak barked again, bumping his head against Ephrim’s shoulder and giving Throndir a judgemental side-eye.

“See? Even Kodiak agrees,” Ephrim said, scratching behind one of Kodiak’s ears.

Throndir looked at him, and Ephrim looked back, and for a moment, Throndir felt the fear that this really was the end. That he wasn’t even going to be able to fight for this, for Ephrim, for the two of them to survive, somehow, against all odds. Ephrim looked away, down at Kodiak, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. There was something resigned in his expression, whether about his encroaching death or about Throndir, and something tugged painfully in Throndir’s chest. He couldn’t give up on this. Not yet. Not yet.

“We can find another way for me to feed,” Throndir said, with as much confidence as he could manage. “And we’ll find a way to stop your arm from getting worse, at the very least.”

“You might as well promise to save the world while you’re at it,” Ephrim said, sarcastic, but he slid his gaze over to Throndir, something hopeful growing in his eyes.

“I mean, I’m trying,” Throndir said, only half-joking. “That’s definitely still on the to-do list.”

“ _God_ ,” Ephrim said, exasperated, dropping his hand from Kodiak’s ear. He looked at Throndir fully then, thoughtful, then finally pushed Kodiak gently away. He held out his left arm in Throndir’s direction, and Throndir leaned forward, burying his face against Ephrim’s neck, breathing in the scent of flowers and charcoal and the magic that still clung to Ephrim’s skin. Ephrim slid a hand through Throndir’s hair, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you’ll try,” he said, so quietly that Throndir only heard him because of how close they were. “I’m just not sure there’s anything you can do.”

Throndir sighed, accepting that he wasn’t going to get any other promises out of Ephrim about this. Well, that was fine. Ephrim didn’t have to believe it was possible for Throndir to find a solution. He just had to stay alive long enough for Throndir to make a difference.

Something heavy collapsed against them, and Throndir nearly fell over as Kodiak decided he wanted to be a part of the hug too. Ephrim smiled, adjusting his position enough for Kodiak to wedge his head and a front leg between them.

“Aw, come on, Kodiak,” Throndir said, which just made Ephrim’s smile grow wider. “We’re a little busy here.”

Kodiak huffed and attempted to press even closer, like he wanted to lie on top of them. Which, honestly, probably _was_ what he wanted, even though it was still midday and there was work to do. Not that Throndir had been thinking about work, but the fact remained that there _was_ work.

Ephrim leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Throndir’s again, his hand still tangled in Throndir’s hair. For a moment, they stayed like that, a closemouthed kiss suspended in the moment and in the newness. Then Throndir tilted his head, leaning in despite the giant dog getting in the way, and Ephrim’s lips parted, tentative, still a little unsure of himself but no less interested for it.

“I love you,” Throndir said when he finally pulled back, enjoying the way Ephrim’s eyelashes fluttered open, the way his expression had gone slightly dazed. “I should’ve said it sooner, probably. You’re really distracting.”

Ephrim’s eyes cleared a bit and he smirked, drawing Throndir’s gaze back to his mouth. “I can be more distracting,” Ephrim said. “If that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Shit,” Throndir said, the word drawn out and unsteady as his mind went down a _deeply_ interested and very vivid path. “Not in front of Kodiak, though.”

Ephrim stared at him for a second before his face broke into helpless smile, laughter bubbling out as he tackled Throndir down onto the floor. Throndir went, happily, even as Kodiak barked his annoyance at being dislodged from his spot between them.

Just one afternoon, Throndir thought as Ephrim’s weight settled on top of him. They could ignore work for one afternoon. Eight years, after all, was a lot of time to make up for. He had a feeling everyone would understand.


End file.
